𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 || 𝐁𝐁𝐂 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

14: Doctor John Watson

One of the men was short, with blonde hair and a walking stick, and the other was wearing glasses and was overweight. Both looked to be in their early thirties. The shorter of the two was leaning heavily on his cane. I narrowed my eyes. Psychosomatic limp Haircut, posture, a tan line around the wrist. Military. Soldier. Afghanistan. An army doctor for at least two years.

"Bit different from my day." said the blonde guy, seeming to be a bit taken back by his surroundings.

" You've no idea!" replied the other man, smiling, seeming comfortable in the lab.

Sherlock looked up. "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." He asked.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" the man called Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I prefer to text," replied Sherlock, holding out a hand impatiently . "Sorry, it's in my coat," said Mike, sitting down on one of the stools, the blonde man, however, chose to remain standing, which was unusual, since if his limp was real, he would automatically sit down.

"Er, here use mine." said the blonde guy, holding it out to Sherlock.

"Oh, thank you." said Sherlock, sounding surprised. He looked over to Mike questioningly.

"This is an old friend of mine, John Watson."

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" asked Sherlock without looking up.

I smirked. He caught on quick.

"Sorry?" said John disbelievingly.

"Which was it, in Afghanistan or Iraq?" repeated Sherlock impatiently.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you-?" John began.

"Ah, Molly, coffee, thank you" interrupted Sherlock, taking the coffee from Molly.

"What happened to the lipstick?" asked Sherlock, assessing Molly's face. "It wasn't working for me." said Molly shyly.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now," he said, sipping his coffee and grabbing his coat.

"OK." said Molly, sounding close to tears.

"Sherlock!" I hissed, poking him.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from the phone.

"I'm sorry, what?" asked John, confused.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other," said Sherlock, looking at John and waiting for an answer.

John just stood there; mouth slightly agape. He looked at Mike accusingly.

"You told him about me?" he said.

"Not a word," said Mike, holding his hands up defensively.

All the while I sat there watching the conversation over my experiment, barely concealing my amusement at their conversation. Normal people were so clueless.

"Who said anything about flatmates?" asked John.

"I did. Told Mike yesterday I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan," said Sherlock.

"Wasn't a difficult leap," I muttered under my breath.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" demanded John, looking perplexed.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. We ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

"Is that it?" said John disbelievingly.

"Is that what?" said Sherlock, confused.

"We've only just met and we're going to go and look at a flat?"

"Problem?" Sherlock sounded confused.

"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting.

I don't even know your name," said John.

"I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan," Began Sherlock, but I interrupted him.

I wasn't about to allow Sherlock to have all the fun.

"You've got a brother worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid." Sherlock shot me a dirty look for stealing his thunder, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name's Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street." he said.

"Afternoon," said Sherlock, before dashing out of the lab.

"He's always like that." said Mike with a what-can-you-do shrug.

John limped over to me and extended a hand.

"John Watson," he said, shaking my hand.

"Alexandria Novak, nice to meet you, John," I said warmly, taking an instant liking to him.

"So what was all of that about? How did you both get all of that from just looking at me?" he asked. I just looked at him.

"It was quite obvious really. You are one of the easiest people I have ever read. Don't worry, you'll get used to it," I said, patting his shoulder sympathetically as I walked past him to the door, grabbing my jacket along the way.

"Do you want me to take you to the address? I'm going there anyway. I'm going to be the crazy woman living in the room above your flat."

"Sure, thanks," he said gratefully, although he looked at me slightly wearily after that.

"So," he said as we were in the lift to the ground floor.

"Are you and Sherlock....together?" he asked.

"What! No!" I spluttered.

"God, why does everybody think that?" I asked, annoyed.

"You both look like a couple, that's probably why," he replied, sounding embarrassed.

"Well, we are not, why, are you interested in me?" I teased.

John went red.

"Of course not, I'm straight, I was just wondering," he said hurriedly. I

laughed and elbowed him in the side.

"I was only kidding," I said.

"So what's your story then John Watson?" I asked as we waited for a cab.

"Oh I'm nothing special," said John, shifting from one leg to the other.

"Nothing special is good, ordinary is good," I said, trying to reassure him. John chuckled.

"Who did you hang out with then? Kings and Queens?" he asked jokingly.

"No, not much. I was usually the one to kill them," I said seriously.

John laughed nervously, unsure as to whether to believe me or not.

The cab ride back to Baker Street was one of comfortable silence. John Watson seemed like the polar opposite of Sherlock Holmes, but it was just a matter of waiting to see whether opposites truly do attract.